


The Other Side

by Monalisasandmadhatters20



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, F/M, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:08:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28299462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monalisasandmadhatters20/pseuds/Monalisasandmadhatters20
Summary: Phillip begins to understand who he is, and all that comes with it.Phineas helps.
Relationships: Charity Barnum/P. T. Barnum, P. T. Barnum/Phillip Carlyle
Kudos: 18





	1. Unconscionable

He shook his head before lighting a match with a trembling hand. He should not have done it. It was a horrible idea from the very start. This… This thing… This thing that he kept buried deep inside had burst forth in an uncontrollable wave of desire, leaving him sullied in a way he never could have imagined. Allowing it free reign was unconscionable, and yet he allowed it. Oh… He had allowed it. His father…

He shook his head again before actually lighting his cigarette. His parents could never know. He blew out the flame with a shaky breath. The shame it would bring the Carlyle name was immense. The dishonor that would abound if anyone were to know… No, they could never find out his… Attractions.

He walked towards the window, taking a long drag of his cigarette, ignoring the slumbering stranger for now. The half raised moon illuminated the clear sky, mocking him. The street was empty except for the occasional passerby, for which he was thankful. He would be able to slip out unnoticed when he was finally ready. 

How could he have not at least waited until the sun had set before slipping away if he wanted his attractions to remain unnoticed?

Had they exchanged names?, Phillip wondered, looking at the man across the room, snoring peacefully, puffing leisurely at his cigarette. Had they exchanged trades? He couldn’t remember much after (or before, really) his third shot of whisky, if he were to be honest with himself. Would his tryst be splashed on the front of the evening newspapers?

 _It would be nice, though,_ he thought, as he put his cigarette out in the ashtray beside the bed, _to know the name of my first._

He sighed quietly and set to work at gathering his clothes. His face flamed hotly at the fact that they were spread throughout the rather spacious apartment. As he dressed, he wondered if he should wake the man and find out if he knew his name, if there was any way this night could be traced to his father, but decided against it.

After all, why borrow trouble?

He checked and rechecked his pocket, ensuring the letter he carried everywhere was still in his pocket, before he hurried down the stairs, his hat set over his eyes, his scarf set over his mouth, his hands shoved deep inside the pockets of his trousers. He would go back to his own apartment now. He would go back to his apartment and climb between the sheets and pretend this joke of a night didn’t happen.

Because really… What else could he do?

_A bit of a scandal, they whisper about me behind my back when they think I can’t hear them... I suppose they were always right..._

_I need a drink..._

***********

  
  


It was late when he finally locked the door to the circus that night. Closing down shop was becoming more and more difficult with acts seeming to double each and every night. The different personalities (and tempers) he had to deal with made him wonder why he staged live acts in the first place… Wax figures never brawled behind the curtain. Wax figures never spewed hatred to each other so fierce it made the other cry. And most importantly, wax figures never made him late to the train station and missing his family for the third night in a fucking row. 

Phineas Barnum shoved his hands in the pockets of his overcoat, grumbling under his breath. He loved his troupe of oddities. He truly did. They were wonderful people who had shit lives before he found them. He did his best to show them they were worth more than they ever imagined themselves to be. But in doing so he was losing a bit more of himself every day. 

He kicked at a stray pebble. His marriage was crumbling before him. Charity felt he cared more about the business than the family. His children were straying from him. His girls feeling like their Daddy didn’t love them as much as the oddities. The bank was coming after him for the loan, though, and if he didn’t start making bank they would lose what little they had gained so far. Why couldn’t they all _see_ that?

He needed help. He needed a partner. He needed someone with better business sense than himself. But where to find it?

_I need a drink._

He pushed his way into the first bar room he found, setting his hat and scarf on the coat rack by the door. He sat at the bar, setting a few bills on the counter. “Whatever that will give me the most of, if you please? I plan to get good and drunk tonight,” he stated when the bartender turned his way, causing his neighbor to crack a ghost of a smile. “Glad someone has some good nature to send my way this evening. It’s been a chore of a night, let me tell you.”

Phillip knocked back one of his shots of whisky and winced. “I understand that, good sir. Phillip Carlyle,” he said, sticking out his hand.

“The playwright?,” Phineas asked, smiling brightly, taking the smaller hand in his own. “Phineas Taylor Barnum, at your service.”

“From the circus?”

“Oh! You… You’ve been?”

“God no!,” Phillip chuckled, “but I’ve seen the crowds. People leave a great deal happier than they went in, which is much more than what I can say for my plays.”

Phineas watched him as he knocked back another shot, then as he rubbed his temples. The man did not look as well as he did when he saw him at his daughter’s ballet recital just a mere month ago. He had lost a significant amount of weight. He had dark circles that surrounded his dull grey eyes that were not there before. His skin was a sickly white. His hair, then perfectly coiffed, had a messy quality that Phineas knew none of the upper class men would normally tolerate. He wondered just what had happened to the man before him to cause such drastic changes in his physical appearance, and for him not to seem to care.

“So come work at the circus. I need someone to help me with the business side of things. Someone to help me appeal to the highbrows,” Phineas said, shocking himself with his nerve.

“I can’t just up and join the circus, Mr. Barnum.”

Phineas took a long drink of his lager. “Why not? Sounds thrilling, doesn’t it?”

Phillip rolled his eyes. “Obviously it sounds thrilling, but I have a reputation to uphold. My parents…”

“Have no say in your life anymore, Phillip. You are an adult,” Phineas pointed out. “Is this really how you want to spend your days?” He waved his hand over at the shot glasses. “Whiskey and misery? Because it doesn’t look like your body can handle much more of it, boy.”

“I… I can’t… Mr. Barnum, I don’t know where you think you… I’ll…,” he sputtered, shocked at the audacity of the man before him. Phillip knocked back the last shot of whisky sitting in front of him and sighed. “There are things about me… Things that will...”

Phineas raised his eyebrow. “I work with a group of misfits, Mr. Carlyle. Outcasts. Freaks. Each one with a story more horrifying than I could have ever imagined. Nothing you can say will surprise me, or scare me off, dear boy,” Phineas said softly.

Phillip smiled slightly, clutching at his letter desperately. “I don’t believe you, Mr. Barnum. But… Well… Sign me up, then. Anything is better than what I have now.”


	2. Learning Eachother

He walked into his apartment blindly, his head throbbing after all of the day’s excitement. He collapsed on his loveseat with a groan. He couldn’t believe he allowed Barnum to convince him to join his circus! He must of had much more to drink than he thought he had, that was the only excuse he could give himself that made sense. He rubbed his temples with his fingers. He fretted about his parents’ reaction to his dalliance that afternoon, then what did he do? Join the fucking circus!

“You can have a seat, Mr. Barnum. I’ll make some coffee in a moment. I’m just trying to wrap my head around the fact I joined the circus tonight,” Phillip all but groaned, as he put a cigarette between his lips. He hit his cigarette and looked at his pocket watch. He frowned. “Or perhaps just water. It is quite a bit later than I thought.”

Phineas laughed as he sat on the matching reclining chair. He took out his pipe and lit a match. “Yes, it is, dear boy. You should get some rest.”

“You’ll be alright out here, Mr. Barnum? I think I have an extra blanket somewhere. If my head stops pounding for only a moment I might even remember where…” Phillip ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t entertain very often, you see...”

Phineas smiled softly. “I’ll be fine, Mr. Carlyle. Thank you for giving me a roof for the night. I shudder at the scolding I would receive from my troupe if they found out I spent the night in my office yet again.”

“If you’re sure then,” Phillip said, getting to his feet, still unsure himself. He turned to go to his bedroom, but stopped short. “I insist you call me Phillip, Mr. Barnum.”

“Then I must insist you call me Phineas. Or P.T. if you’d rather.”

“Very well… P.T. I hope you sleep well enough. I’m sorry I don’t have more in the way of comforts for you. I… I didn’t leave my parents’ with much, I’m afraid.”

“Worry not for me, dear Phillip. I’ve had much worse than this,” Phineas replied, folding his hands on his lap and closing his eyes, leaving Phillip wondering just what on earth he could mean.

He shook his head and made his way to his own small bedroom, loosening his tie as he went. His gait was still unsteady, be it from the copious amount of liquor he had had throughout the day, or his afternoon rendezvous he could not be sure.  _ Was it just this afternoon?, _ he thought, stopping short in his doorway.  _ Was it really just this afternoon that I gave the last bit of myself up that I had left?  _

He had forgotten to check the evening news to see if his name was plastered on the front page. He knew people saw him leave with that wonderful, wonderful man, and  _ dammit why didn’t he get his name!  _ He ran his fingers over his lovebites on his neck, a slight smile on his face as he remembered how gentle the man was, how caring as he was he took him. But then...

It wouldn’t be the first time this type of scandal would have been attached to his name. He ran his fingers through his hair agitatedly, all happiness abated. His breath hitched. His breathing sped up until he was almost gasping for air. 

Only this time… This time there would be truth to the scandal, which made it all the worse.

**********

  
  


Somehow he had made it to his bed. He had crawled between his thin blanket and sheets still in his day clothes and had closed his tear filled eyes. He somehow fell asleep, knowing he had a big day ahead of him. A day in which to give the best first impression money couldn’t buy him. He sighed, lighting the end of his cigarette with a still shaking hand, feeling as though he never slept at all. 

He wondered how Barnum fared on his reclining chair.

He got to his feet as he took a long puff of his cigarette. Yes, it would be a day from hell, but he created this hell, therefore he must endure. He changed into clean clothes and set his filthy (like him) clothes in the hamper by the wall. He didn’t bother with his hair. He set his hat atop his head and a scarf around his neck to hide his shame.

When he entered the sitting room Barnum was awake, and greeted him with a large grin. “Phillip! Good morning to you! How did you sleep, dear boy?”

Phillip put out his cigarette in his ashtray next to the loveseat. “Alright I suppose… And you, P.T.?”

“I slept wonderfully. Thank you for the hospitality.”

“I’m glad,” Phillip said, walking into the small kitchen. He poured himself a shot of whisky. “Would you like a cup of coffee before we go? I can brew some, it won’t take long?”

Phineas eyed the boy as he took the shot and grimaced as it went down. He didn’t look like he slept a wink. “Are you sure you feel up to meeting everyone today, Phillip? You don’t look well. We can wait until another day if you’d rather.”

“No, no, today is fine,” Phillip replied, a smirk on his face as he poured himself another shot. “I’ll be fine once I take my morning medicine. Would you like one?”

“No, I’m alright, Phillip,” Phineas said slowly, getting to his feet. “And I think that’s enough for you, as well. What’s the matter, Phillip? I know we just met, but you can talk to me, if you need to get something off your chest. I’m all ears.”

Phillip shook his head, taking a cigarette out of his pocket. “I can’t talk about it, P.T. As much as I want to, I just can’t...,” he said. “But I’m ready whenever you are.”

Phineas nodded once. “Alright then. We will stop for breakfast on the way. Your cupboards are barren so I’m sure you haven’t eaten anything in days. And no,” Phineas said, lifting his hand to stop Phillip’s protest. “You will eat, I will pay, and that is that. Then we will stop at the telegraph office so I can send a quick message to my wife before we head to the circus. I will show you what I need done, and you can tell me if it’s something you can do. Agreed?”

Phillip, shifting uncomfortably throughout the no nonsense tone Phineas had adopted, nodded. “Agreed. Let’s go.”


End file.
